The Reporter and the Billionaire Scottish Wolf Lord (He Wanted Me Pregnant!)

by Victoria Wessex

  He placed the tip of the head against her soaking lips and looked deep into her eyes. And then he pushed.

  Rachel caught her breath. She felt the shape of him opening her, spreading those soft, wet lips apart. As he moved farther into her she felt herself begin to stretch, and her tightness slowed him. He relaxed, then pushed forward again, his hands cupping her shoulders. Another few millimeters of him sank into her. She felt herself drum-tight around the very widest part of him. “God!” she said aloud, her eyes tight shut.

  He leaned forward and laid a kiss on her naked belly. And then he thrust hard and deep.

  She groaned as she felt the head slip inside her, her body closing behind its thickness, trapping him inside her. He entered her in a long rush of hot, hard flesh, her slickened walls stroking at him in a way that made him growl. He slid into her more than halfway, inch after inch of him, until her body started to resist him.

  “Lift your knees,” he said, and it was an order. She opened her eyes to see his shining, golden eyes blazing into hers. She silently bent her knees, sliding her feet along the cold stone floor until they were touching the cushions, almost under her knees.

  “Open your legs,” he told her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, harder than she’d ever known it. She knew what he was making her do—open herself up to him, ready to receive him as deeply as she could. The thought of it—of all of him inside her—made her heady.

  His hands slid down to her breasts and she moaned as he palmed the soft flesh. He leaned forward over her, powerful legs supporting his weight easily, and started to thrust. Every movement of that iron-hard flesh against her slickened walls sent a ripple up along her spine, twisting and coiling around her brain, encasing everything in hot darkness. Every thrust took him a little deeper into her, and as she looked down her body she could see the hard length disappearing into her…and how much of it there still was to go.

  She gasped. “I—I don’t know if I can—“

  Another low growl. Another long, deep thrust that made the pleasure rise and dance inside her. “You will.”

  His hands were firm at her breasts, thumbs rubbing and stroking, fingers squeezing hard enough that she knew he’d leave red marks. God, he wasn’t just fucking her, he was…taking her.

  His hips were pumping, now, and she felt the head of him sink deeper, opening her, the pleasure he was unleashing in her easing his progress. He began to thrust faster, and she thought that she must have taken him all the way. But when she looked down between them, there was still a few inches of him left outside her.

  Each thrust was like steel wrapped in silver and silk, each deliciously deep penetration making her arch her back, shuddering as a shower of sparks blasted up through her body. She began to unconsciously swirl her hips, flexing herself tempestuously under him, her pelvis tilting up to meet his every thrust. Both of them were panting now, the heat of the fire making their naked bodies shine.

  “Yes,” he told her. “Yes, you want it, don’t you?” His thrusts increased in tempo, that long, thick cock pumping hard into her. “You want it.”

  “Yes,” she groaned. God, the feel of it! Now that she’d adjusted to his size, it was like nothing else on earth—so hard and hot and long, every inch of her alive with sensation.

  “Tell me,” he panted, his fingers and thumbs pinching lightly at her nipples. “Tell me you want it.” Every word was wrapped in that thick, Scottish burr. “Tell me you want it you hot. Little. Bitch.”

  His words alone nearly sent her over the edge, her orgasm already close. “Yes!” she moaned. “Yes! I want it!”

  He growled long and hard, and suddenly he was pulling out of her, all the way, and she gasped in surprise. Then his strong hands were on her hips, lifting her easily, turning her….

  She landed on her knees on the cushions, and realized what he intended to do. He’s going to take me—no, mount me, just like he said.

  His palms smoothed over her raised ass for a second, and then she felt him nudging her thighs apart and the hot, slickened head of him pressing at the lips of her sex. She’d caught herself instinctively on her hands, but now she let her upper body sink down onto the cushions, turning her face to the side so that her cheek pressed against their softness. She could feel her ass rising into the air, could feel herself opening to him. Her belly fluttered as she realized that, like this, he could go deeper. He could go all the way.

  With a grunt that sounded like victory, he thrust into her, his size stretching her again but her wet readiness making it easy for him. She cried out, her eyes widening, as she felt him slide into her. He didn’t stop at halfway this time but kept going, inch after thick inch. Her heart pounded as she felt him sinking deeper, deeper…and then, as he reached the point he’d reached before, deeper still. His hands went to her hips and he began to thrust, and the air hissed from her mouth in high little moans.

  “Yes,” he told her tightly. “Moan for me.”

  His words only made her hotter. She found herself moaning louder.

  His thrusts grew harder. She felt herself opening, her own juices letting him slide all the way to—she gasped as she felt the head of him push up tight against her limits. God, he was right there, the tip of him nudging against her cervix. And his cock was bare—no condom. The thought of it made her suck air in through her nostrils, a shudder of panic—delicious panic.

  He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. He stopped thrusting for a second and his hand came up underneath her and stroked at her taut belly. God! He’s really serious! He means to get me pregnant! He twisted his hips a little and she groaned.

  “Are you all ready for me, Rachel?” he growled. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Ready to carry my baby?”

  She took a long, shuddering breath and then nodded.

  She couldn’t see him, but she knew that he smiled.

  He began to thrust again, his hands moving to her hanging breasts, cupping them and stroking them. His cock was sliding almost all the way out of her on each stroke, now, then all the way in to fill her completely. Rachel felt her orgasm bloom and fill, swelling inside her until it possessed her entire body. She felt his hands grow harder on her breasts, squeezing and pinching, and her climax expanded further, filling her head, leaving no space for thought. His hips were hammering into her now, his heavy balls slapping against her as his cock thrust into her again and again. She rolled her hips back to meet him, eyes squeezed shut, breath just a tight hiss between her teeth. Her whole world was tightness and pleasure, hard, throbbing flesh against her soft folds and—

  She felt a sharpness at her breasts. Just the slightest touch of claws, scratching feather-light against her nipples. It sent her over the edge. Her orgasm exploded through her, even more intense than the first, shattering her from within and leaving nothing behind. She felt herself spasm around him, the size of him making the climax even better, just the feeling of clenching around him indescribable. A lurch went through her body, starting at the base of her neck and rippling down through her body to her groin, making her pump back against him. She felt him go stiff against her and he gave one last, long growl as he pressed all the way into her. At the same time, he leaned all the way forwards and nipped at the back of her neck with his teeth. “You’re mine,” he told her.

  She could feel the very tip of him hard against her limits and then—

  Her eyes opened wide in shock as she felt the thick, hot spurt of him there, right up against the opening to her womb. The first blast was followed by another and another, and she thought of those heavy balls, unloading into her fertile body, and the idea of it made her go weak. She could feel the thick fluid plastering her, filling her, and when he finally stopped she just knelt there, trembling, with him still inside her.

  She remembered him gently withdrawing from her, and then his strong hands turning her over onto her side. She felt him spooning her from behind, his body molded to hers from shoulder to ankle, his chin on her shoulde
r, and then she was asleep.

  Chapter 6

  She woke in the morning with him still wrapped around her, his arm protectively across her breasts. Her body still tingled everywhere he’d touched her and there was an entirely pleasant ache between her thighs.

  She placed a hand on her naked belly. It was stupid, of course. It was impossible to know. And yet, on some deep instinctual level, she did know.

  She heard him wake but, for the first few moments, he didn’t speak. A sense of unease spread slowly through her.

  “Rachel….” he began.

  She’d heard that tone of voice before. She knew what it meant. She shook her head. “No,” she said quickly. “No—you are not doing this.”

  “Rachel—”

  “I’m taking a shower,” she said. She felt too vulnerable, naked. And if she delayed the conversation then maybe, somehow, it wouldn’t happen.

  ***

  When she emerged from the shower, her clothes were waiting for her outside the bathroom, dry from the fire. When she’d dressed, she searched the house for him…and found him sitting, dressed in shirt and pants, in the kitchen.

  Two steaming mugs of were on the table. “I made you coffee,” he said. “I know you Americans have to have your coffee in the morning.”

  She stared at him.

  “I thought it might help,” he said. “We need to talk.”

  She sat down without speaking.

  He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. On the third attempt, he said, “Last night was…incredible.” He took her hand, but she almost shrank from his grasp because she could sense what was coming. “…but you can’t stay here,” he finished.

  “What?” she asked in a small voice.

  He rubbed both hands across his face. “This is no life for you,” he said. “Trapped here on the island with me.”

  “Then leave the damn island! Come with me to LA!”

  He let out a bitter laugh and shook his head.

  “London, then! Hell, Edinburgh! I can get a job over here!”

  “You don’t understand,” he said tightly. “I can never leave here. What happens the first time I lose my temper or get injured or do something else that makes me change? Damn it, what happens when I stub my toe in a restaurant?”

  “But you came to the village with me—”

  “Yes, for a few hours—and I was terrified the whole time! And that was a tiny village—imagine a city with CCTV cameras and everyone with camera phones. If I changed in public here, maybe I could get away with it. They’re superstitious, up here, and no one’s going to believe a story from these folk. But anywhere else…I can’t risk it.”

  “Not even for me?” She blinked, and realized her eyes were wet. “I thought you were falling in love with me?”

  His fist thumped the table. “I am! I already have—” He broke off and they stared at each other for a second. “That’s why I have to do this. I can’t sentence you to this life.”

  She sniffed. The tears were spilling down her cheeks, now. “But last night—we already…I think I might be—”

  He nodded. “I think so, too.” He looked at her stomach. “I have a feeling.” He paused. “But you still need to go.”

  She gaped at him. “You expect me to go back to LA and…and raise a baby by myself?! Not knowing if it’s even…like you?”

  “You’ll be taken care of,” he said. “I can wire you money. You’ll want for nothing.”

  “Money?!” she screeched. “Jesus, it’s not about money! Why did you—How could you do that last night, and then this morning—”

  “I warned you!” he shouted. Then, more softly, “I warned you. I’m sorry. I feel like a complete bastard—”

  “You are a complete bastard!”

  “…but this is the right thing to do. You have to see that. Please try to see that.”

  She looked down at the table, seeing her coffee mug through the blur of her tears. She hurled it across the room to shatter against the far wall. “You thought coffee was going to make this conversation better?! Jesus, you know nothing about women, do you?”

  “No,” he said tightly.

  She stood there staring at him just long enough to completely lose her battle with the tears, then turned and headed for the door. “I’ll wait on the dock,” she told him. “I assume you’ve already called for a boat.” She opened the door.

  “Rachel?” She could hear the pain in his voice. “Please…just tell me you understand.”

  She said nothing. She did. That was the worst part.

  Two Weeks Later

  Back in LA, huddled in a stall in the TV studio bathroom, she took the test. Pregnant. She took it twice more, just to be sure, and all three were the same.

  She sat on the toilet and cried and cried. Not because of the new life growing within, but because of the man who should be sharing it with her. She bent forward and dissolved into hot, wracking sobs.

  When she finally dried her eyes and made it to make-up, the make-up artist clucked her teeth at her. “A man?” she asked, doing her best to hide the damage. “They can be such animals.”

  Chapter 7

  She was wrapping up with a live piece to camera about a dog that could bark the whole of The Star Spangled Banner when it started. First the bang of doors at the back of the studio, despite all the “On Air” and “Silence” signs. Then the camera operators twisting around to look; the floor manager whispering urgently into her headset. She tried to keep her eyes on the auto cue, but she could see the commotion traveling through the room, the interloper dodging past security guard after security guard—

  And then he was walking towards her, almost in view of the cameras, the floor manager making desperate wrap up signals with her hands—

  “That’sallwehavetimeforthankyouandgoodnight.” She got the last syllable out just as the director cut and a half second before Alex ran in front of the cameras and grabbed her. She flew backwards in her wheeled chair, colliding with the anchorman as Alex’s lips came down on hers, his hands around her waist. His tongue was in her mouth, hot and hungry, her eyes already closed as she gave herself up to it—

  Two security guards dragged Alex off her, and she had to quickly tell them it was okay before Alex banged their heads together.

  Seconds later, in the safety of the make-up room, he hugged her close.

  “I thought—” She was smiling and crying all at the same time. “I thought you couldn’t—That you had to stay!”

  “I haven’t changed in days.” He looked at her steadily. “Isolating myself…it became a vicious spiral, I suppose, after that woman nearly drowned. The less I was around people, the safer everyone was…but the less I had to control it. I didn’t have to work so hard at it, and over the years I forgot how. And on my own, with no one to see..every day, I’d spend a little more time as a wolf, a little less time as a man. I got…comfortable with it. Until you came along.”

  Rachel nodded, remembering the dark castle she’d first arrived at, the way he’d padded to the door as a wolf. How long had he been in wolf form, before she knocked and forced him to change? Hours? Days? No wonder he’d been so rattled when he first opened the door.

  “But I knew it wouldn’t last, if I wasn’t with you,” said Alex. “I had a choice. I either waited and stayed there, and soon I’d be back where I started…or I took a risk, fought to control it and came to find you.” He took a deep breath. “It took me weeks to relearn everything I’d forgotten about controlling it, but I think I have it now. I want to try…if you’ll still have me.”

  Rachel stared into his eyes…and then slapped him across the cheek. “That’s for being such a man about it,” she told him.

  He rubbed his cheek. “Okay. I deserved that. But…will you have me?”

  She kissed him in answer, long and hard. Then she pulled back. “You’ll really be okay? You can control it?”

  He looked at her seriously. “Yes. As long as we….”

  He
r eyes grew wide. “Every night?”

  “At least every night.”

  Epilogue

  Two Years Later

  Alex was on his back on the grass, shirt off, lifting a giggling Josh again and again into the air. Rachel looked up from her laptop, watching her husband’s muscled forearms flex and relax. Mmm.

  Josh had been born, happy and healthy, a little over a year before. So far, there was no sign of anything unusual at all…but then, Alex said, there wouldn’t be. Sometimes she sat staring into his eyes and wondered if she could really see a gleam of gold amidst the gray, or if it was just her imagination. But time would tell.

  Their new house, up in the Californian mountains, backed directly onto the woods—and several acres of them was theirs. It was far more than Rachel would ever have contemplated buying herself, but Alex’s bank balance had barely shown a dent. They still kept the castle in Scotland—for cozy winters, mostly. Even the long flights weren’t a problem—she just had to pack plenty of food for the every-hungry Josh and make sure she and Alex had a good, long sex session before they got on the flight.

  There was no way she could do her old job from way out in the boonies, of course, so she’d had to get creative. Fortunately, a way with a story and the ability to talk to camera had made her YouTube channel on motherhood an overnight success. She just left out certain anecdotes: like the time Josh had a nightmare, and the only way he’d sleep was cuddled up alongside the sleeping wolf’s soft fur.

  Alex, after years isolated from the world, had had to do a lot of catching up. Eventually, exhausted from his questions, she’d sat him down in front of cable TV with a supply of food and the remote control and left him for a weekend. When he emerged, rubbing his eyes, he looked faintly shell-shocked, but at least knew who the president was. And also a worrying amount about American Idol.

  She looked up to find Alex standing over her, Josh nestled in his arms. “He needs a nap,” Alex said. “Once he’s down, if it’s okay, I think I might go for a run.”